Dear World, 

There’ll be no recipe, no procedure and no quoted lesson. What you will read is a lesson filled entry. Take from it what you will. 

A few days ago, I made the decision to untie myself from one of your natives who I decided had taught the lesson they entered my life to teach. This individual had proven to be toxic and undeserving of any more of my presence. 
Most would consider my actions as “burning a bridge” in my quest for a peaceful and progressive life. Folks reprimand and say that such actions will haunt me in the future. Apparently, I’ll die if I let people go; a person who meant me no good to begin with; an individual who saw a relationship as beneficial only to them. 

The destruction of one (bridge) does not indicate that the journey ends. 

The destruction of one (bridge) does not indicate that one’s journey is doomed. The person who got cut has no control over life. Control is the responsibility of the higher being we all believe in. 

Fact: The destruction of a bridge reminds that there are different routes to the destination this Suburban Girl desires. The principle is the same as there are multiple ways to solve a problem. Please note that the path taken has nothing to do with levels of difficulty. It has everything to do with how situations are handled on the path.

The day I “burnt bridges” was the day I decided to bake some chocolate chip muffins. I found an easy make recipe on a website, followed the instructions and popped those bad boys in the oven. While attending to an important task, I could smell burning chocolate. Yeah, I forgot the muffins and I turned the temperature too high. 

With partially burnt muffins removed from the oven, I ate one. It tasted just as good (or even better) as if it weren’t burnt; crispy chocolate chip muffins. I then connected my bridge burning actions with the burnt muffins; the taste of ‘burnt’ does not have to be repulsive. It can be enjoyable. A noteworthy moment of this experience is that a burnt product can look unburnt but the taste of burn will be evident.

Signed with love and flour dust on my nose, 

The Night Baking Suburban Girl.